


till death do us a(part)

by slingshot



Category: GOT7
Genre: Afterlife, Alternate Universe, Ghost Marriage, Horror, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 17:32:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11764887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slingshot/pseuds/slingshot
Summary: They say you should never comment on the appearance of the dead, which is exactly what Jaebum does as he points to a black and white photograph of a deceased young man and says, ”Yeah, I’ll smash him. I won’t mind being buried next to a cutie like that.”To be fair, Jackson had egged him into playing a game of ‘Smash or Pass’ at the local cemetery.Based off Jaebum’s comment about JJ Project in an interview: “I think our tombstones will be beside each other.”





	till death do us a(part)

**Author's Note:**

> In ancient times, rich couples who can afford a plot of land will be buried together, or at least the first wife will have the honour of being buried beside her husband.

They say you should never comment on the appearance of the dead, which is exactly what Jaebum does as he points to a black and white photograph of a deceased young man and says, ”Yeah, I’ll smash him. I won’t mind being buried next to a cutie like that.”

To be fair, Jackson had egged him into playing a game of ‘Smash or Pass’ at the local cemetery. In their defense, they were both high, shot up from cocaine to have even come up with an idea like that. They had climbed over the gated entrance of the cemetery in the dead of the night, shrieking maniacally with random noises while ambling past masked gravediggers at the crumbling tombstones. Arms over each other, Jackson and Jaebum had spilled into the door of the crematorium. Yugyeom giggling behind them, holding onto the palm of one reluctant BamBam.  

“Pass. Pass. Pass.” Jaebum walks past rows of stone niches constructed in the columbarium leading to the crematorium, storing urns of the ashes of the deceased. Even in death, they are still housed in flats, rows and rows of neat cement shelves. The sterile white overhead lighting flickers ever so slightly.

“Hyung, I don’t think you should play this game.” BamBam mumbles. He looks around frantically, seemingly on the lookout for someone or something lurking in the shadows. Having grown up religious, the Thai boy has Buddhist prayers tattooed on his body like armour, a testament to his faith. Their boisterous group defacing this sacred place with their presence.

“You’re no fun! Stop being a wuss.” Jackson cackles, his hyena laugh echoing through the empty hallways of the columbarium.

“I won’t bang them, even if they were real people.” Jaebum smirks. 

“Okay, look at this guy. He could be model.” Jackson points to a rectangular nondescript niche.

Jaebum steps closer, eyeing the black and white photograph of a portrait of a young man. He appreciates the man’s clean-cut features from his neat fringe to his perfectly ironed shirt collar. Jaebum knows this type; black frames perched and nose in a book, a teacher’s pet even. This is exactly Jaebum’s type, the kind of boy he would love to mess him up and see him flustered. Not that Jaebum would admit this out loud.

Jaebum reads out the carvings below the photograph:

_Park Jin Young_

_1975-1996_

BamBam’s eyeliner smudged eyes grow comically wide at Jaebum’s next proclamation of wanting to be buried beside the deceased man. 

“Hyung, you can’t, no, don’t say that. Only spouses get buried to each other. “

“Relax, baby BamBam. Dead men tell no tales. “ Jackson brings a finger to his lips, shushing BamBam theatrically.

Jaebum nods in agreement. He shrugs, lighting up his cigarette. “He really is handsome, though.”

Jackson runs to another niche. “Oh my god. Jaebum, you won’t believe how hot this guy is. Why are you so daddy? Definitely smashing.” Jackson jumps up and down excitedly.

BamBam shakes his head in disapproval. He looks to Yugyeom for support but Yugyeom’s only response is laughing louder at Jackson’s antics. Eyes glassy, his euphoria a result from the white powder they took earlier. BamBam sighs and clenches tightly onto Yugyeom’s arm for safety.

BamBam makes the big mistake of turning his head back when they finally leave the cemetery. Dread building up in him. It might be the trick of his eye but the last thing he sees a large, lumbering black dog unlike any breed, staring at them with glowing yellow eyes.

-

Paranoia tugs persistently onto the edges of Jaebum’s being, the sensation of each and every one of its cold claws gripping his heart. It hammers in his chest, his eyes darting everywhere. He eyes the shadows cast, waiting for them to make their next move. The trickle of cold sweat on his forehead has him clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to make sense of reality and he just saw. Jaebum nervously toys with his lip piercing, mussing up his dark long bangs. It isn’t real; everything isn’t real at all, reassuring himself.

Not that he believes in what he has said, anyway. The fact that he has not touched his drugs all day increases his restlessness. Usually, he seeks solace in blow. He can’t afford to have any hallucinations now, not that he normally has them. Apart from that one time he took a whiff of that nasty synthetic stuff BamBam was always cooking up and he started seeing things. But this time, Jaebum knows in his gut that it is different. The unnatural drop in room temperature and the flickering of his lights in his dingy apartment are not just figments of his imagination. The mere thought of _him_ brushes Jaebum’s mind, goose bumps rising immediately on Jaebum’s forearms. Jaebum shakes his head, eyes squeezed, chasing the thought back to the depths of denial.

The sudden buzzing of his phone jolts him. The bright light of his phone screen as though his only anchor to reality. Hands trembling, he answers.

“Hyung, please stay on the phone. Please. I can’t get to BamBam. You’re the only one who picked up.” Jackson hiccups. Jackson never breaks out the honorifics unless he truly wants something from Jaebum.

“I-I think I saw something in my room. A huge floating black THING. I’m scared.” Jackson whimpers further, fear seeping from his voice through the phone. Jaebum can feel his own heart palpitating. Jaebum understands Jackson, this feeling of helplessness. In fact, he can relate but he cannot reveal to Jackson what he saw with his own eyes. For it might frighten Jackson even more. 

“I’m here for you,” Jaebum’s voice cracks as he wills himself together. Fortunately, it works on Jackson as Jackson dissolves into a sobbing mess. 

Thinking about _his_ voice, has Jaebum crawling into ball, making himself as small as possible on his torn sofa. The rickety legs creaks under Jaebum’s weight, another drop of cold sweat drips down his face.

 _“I think you’re handsome too.”_  

The voice whispers lilt with melancholy, so faintly that Jaebum almost did not catch it. In hindsight, Jaebum would have rather not hear it. But he could not tear his eyes away from the mirror, the man in the reflection mouthing the same words with his plush lips. The same man from the photograph at the crematorium, his handsome face encased in round marble. 

Big monolid eyes stare back at him unblinkingly. Jaebum cannot believe his eyes or his ears, his mouth agape. His legs stand still, paralysed by raw fear. His hands grasping the rim of the ceramic sink basin, knuckles white and fingers shaking. The man in the reflection notices Jaebum’s. He frowns, pouting in the process. Jaebum should not have found that cute. The man smiles, eyes turning into crescents and crinkling at the corners. Jaebum shrinks back, away from the mirror. He cannot feel his own heartbeat, holding his breath. The toilet light flickers and in a split second, the man is gone. Jaebum is back facing his own pale frightened reflection panting heavily. Jaebum‘s knees give up and buckle.

“Hyung, are you okay?” Jackson croaks out mid-sob. Jaebum had not realized he was hyperventilating himself. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just choked on some smoke.” Jaebum brushes Jackson off.

Jaebum reaches for his bong with the phone nestled between his ear and shoulder. He takes a hit; smoke wafting lazily from his nostrils. Jaebum is adamant to not let his thoughts wander tonight. He does not want to think at all. He trusts weed not to give him any visions of that sort.

For the most part, Jaebum calms down and his mood relaxes. But at the back of his mind, he knows the fear is spreading like a parasite. It leeches onto his psyche, slithering into every nook and cranny of his brain, distorting Jaebum’s wire-thin restraint on reality. Now, even Jackson is affected. Jaebum settles for Jackson’s crying over the phone and desperate companionship as his lullaby for the night.

-

“I told you guys not to do it and now you look at what happened. I knew something was wrong that night.” BamBam chides. 

Jaebum opens his mouth and closes it. He looks to the ground in embarrassment. 

“I brought Gyeom to the temple. They had to chain him down first before they could do the prayers. His eyes were completely black and he was screaming.” BamBam looks away, anger and pain tinting his voice.

“He. Was. Chained. Down.” BamBam spits out every word. He glares up at Jaebum with red-rimmed, swollen eyes.

Jaebum winces. He does not have a reply for BamBam. He had brought on this madness. The parasite claims another victim in Yugyeom.

“God knows I still have a conscience. I got this for you and Jackson. “ BamBam scoffs. He slaps two triangle charms, filled with prayers written in red ink on yellow dyed coarse bamboo paper, into Jaebum’s palm.

Jaebum silently prays, hoping the charm would work.

- 

It doesn’t work.

Again, Jaebum is too stunned to look away from _him, his_ solid form in the reflection of Jaebum’s apartment window. Jaebum had covered the mirrors in his home with cloth, hoping to avoid meeting _him_ again. Jaebum’s blood runs cold. There seems to be no deterring _him_ , appearing out of the blue in the window Jaebum was staring out of.

Jaebum slaps himself; his denial of the existence of _him_ persists. The upper lip of the man in the reflection twitches, mildly amused by Jaebum’s actions. Jaebum’s phone glitches, screen frozen. The drop in temperature confirms Jaebum’s suspicion, the silence in the apartment intensifies.

Jaebum flinches when _he_ raises his hand, palm outstretched to the ceiling in some dance move. _He_ waits for Jaebum, chin pointing to Jaebum. Jaebum has no choice but to follow like a marionette, as _the man_ lowers his other palm hypnotically. If Jaebum squints closely, he can see himself and _the man_ touching palms like a morbid mating dance. _He_ drops his arms, satisfied. Jaebum shivers, the unwanted caress of the cold has Jaebum wanting to reach for his weed for comfort again. The parasite is getting worse and Jaebum is suffering immensely.

In his line of work, Jaebum has just about seen everything from bruising needle track marks on rotting limbs of flesh to bloody bullet filled bodies involved in gang turf wars. But nothing has prepared Jaebum for when _the man’s_ serene smiling, smooth face morphs into bisecting rough extensive stitches that hold his entire face together with black thread. There was an eyeball missing in its red socket, his paper-thin skin bruised with deathly white pallor and jaw dislodged. Jaebum blinks twice and passes out in shock.

- 

A drug bust gone wrong has Jaebum fleeing down the highway at 100 miles per hour with some guy that he just met. Is his name Marcus? Mark? Not that it matters now, with ringing sirens of police cars chasing behind and bundles of drugs in the car boot. Jaebum clutches on his seat, barely catching his own hide.

Mark rubs Jaebum off in the wrong way; he is quiet, maybe too quiet. A skinny guy with a pretty face, dressed in a turtleneck and leather jacket. Jaebum knows he has vaguely seen him before but he cannot remember. He probably was from some gang Jaebum dealt with before. Normally, Jaebum does not work with new people. Jackson had introduced Mark to Jaebum as their new transport driver for their goods, one friendly arm thrown around Mark’s shoulders. Trust is very important yet minimal in Jaebum’s trade. And Jaebum trusts Jackson.

They needed new people in their operation now with BamBam and Yugyeom nowhere to be found after BamBam answered Jaebum’s phone call with a succinct ‘Fuck off’.

Weirdly enough, Jaebum noticed how Mark kept staring at Jackson back at the club. Mark’s cold and unflinchingly eyes glinting like amber under the flitting club lights and the way he had slinked expertly into the shadows. His smile had turned from warm to sinister the moment Jackson had turned his back and flirted with the other people in the club.

Jaebum avoids eye contact with Mark. His eyes were dark cesspools that had made Jaebum’s spine crawl. Jaebum’s lizard brain tells him that Mark is a bigger predator and Jaebum has no mood to pry tonight so he obeys his instincts. Usually, Jaebum does not get easily shaken by the people he meets. But with the recent turn of events, he does not know what to believe anymore. At this point, the parasite has spread to nearly consuming the whole of Jaebum’s being. The haunting image of _the man_ burns itself into Jaebum’s mind, rooting in every waking hour of Jaebum’s life. 

Jaebum has no idea how Mark is completely silent in the driver’s seat while the car hurtles at break neck speed. Jaebum is left repeating ‘Fuck’ under his breath. He wonders if Jackson managed to escape.

Mark abruptly turns the steering wheel to the right, tires screeching deafeningly. Their car veers off the bridge and plunges headfirst into the cold Han River before Jaebum has time to react. Panic sets in alongside the suffocating waves of icy water rushing into the car. Jaebum struggles to unbuckle his seat belt with his frenzied fingers. His cheeks puff out, attempting to salvage precious oxygen. He kicks the glass car window once, twice, before he manages to break out. Jaebum swims as fast as he can to the surface. As soon as he spots the glimmer of orange fluorescent light, a hand grabs hold of his leg. Jaebum thrashes to avail, trying to shake the hand off. The last thing Jaebum sees is the bleak, black void enveloping him.

The police only find one body floating to the surface.

-

Jaebum wakes up, grasping for air. His stomach hurls, water gushes out from his mouth. He takes deep breaths, glorious oxygen rushing into his lungs. He blinks away the water in his eyes, his vision hazy. Jaebum shivers, as though he has just emerged from the pool. He squints, blue-tipped fingers gingerly touching the ground. He seems to be lying on the ground of some sort of underground cave?

A familiar face pops into his view.

Jaebum’s eyes widen in shock and his body stiffens, a conditioned reflex to this face by now. He would have backed away in fear but the remaining coldness in his joints has them only creaking in return.

“Yes, it’s me, Jinyoung.” Jinyoung answers Jaebum’s silent question. Jaebum can finally match the face to the actual body, if he is isn’t hallucinating this time.

“I’ve been waiting for you.” Jinyoung continues.

“W-Where am I?” Jaebum looks around, voice raw. Is he dead or alive? Is this Purgatory?

“Hell. Technically, the gates of Hell.”

This is how Jaebum meets Park Jinyoung, his Grindr date from Hell.

-

Being dead has its pros and cons. One, his addiction is gone. Although, he occasionally still takes a puff or two of weed. Ghost weed? It’s Hell, Jinyoung shrugs. If you can’t sin here, where else can you? Two, he gets to change his appearance at whim. Jinyoung taught him, switching his bloated drowned rat self for his normal dry self. The way he originally was when Jaebum was alive.

The downfall is that Jaebum is dead and his only company is Jinyoung. Jinyoung had seemed frightening when Jaebum was alive. Now that Jaebum belongs to the dearly departed, Jinyoung is a whole other entity. Jinyoung isn’t bad company, jaebum would admit. He appeals to Jaebum’s quieter, calmer side. One that Jaebum would not show or divulge to others in his life on Earth given his then lifestyle of fast money, flashing lights and hard drugs. Most of Jaebum’s adult life was spent high rather than sober.

Jaebum spies Jinyoung fiddling with an iPhone. There is no concept of capitalism in Hell. They cannot summon physical possessions unlike changing their appearance. Even so, they are only limited to the clothes they had died or were buried in. Unless your grieving family burned joss paper modeled after earthly possessions as offerings. You would not be too worried about your wallet and car keys when you are restrained amidst hot tar being poured onto your decapitated body by demons gleefully feeding off your torture. Lucky for Jaebum, Jinyoung has enough Hell money notes to pay for the toll fee at each gate of Hell that Jaebum’s soul was meant to be punished. Jaebum’s hands are far from clean, blood and retribution dripping from his palms that not only distributed and sold, but also bruised and killed. The streets were tough, you do not survive that long being civil and polite. 

“How you’d get that?” Jaebum pokes at the iPhone. It’s an iPhone 4 model. Jaebum cringes at the outdated screen. At least it’s not a Nokia.

“My family burned it for me. Although I wished they burned me DVDs of movies instead. I always liked them when I was alive.”

“My mom still worries for me even when I’ve been dead for two decades. I’m the only son, you see. She even burned a paper bride for me.” Jinyoung laughs. Jaebum thinks about his distant family, having lost contact for years.

“Shouldn’t your ‘bride’ be accompanying you instead? Why am I here?” Jaebum quizzes.

“I prefer men.”

“Oh.”

- 

There is this other problem of how Jinyoung claims Jaebum and him are bound by a ‘ghost marriage’. Jaebum was right about the bizarre courtship ritual when Jinyoung visited him while he was alive. It turns out the dearly departed have romantic needs too, and apparently expressing your interest in them guarantees you a one way ticket to Hell, in Jaebum’s case.

“Why do you need a husband or wife if you’re dead? You guys are either decomposing to be fertilizer or sitting as ashes in a ceramic jar. ” Jaebum protests his fate that he brought onto himself. Oh, the taste of bitterness clings onto the tip of Jaebum’s tongue. He isn’t even 30 yet here he was, bereft of life to play house with a stranger.

“You called to me from the land of the living and said those things. Now, you want to blame me?” Indignant, Jinyoung stares back bug-eyed.

Stories of girls being buried alive and sacrificed to dead young men in ancient times, mournful lovers marrying their deceased partners in religious rites, these old wives tales come flooding to Jaebum’s mind.

He thinks of the Greek myth of Hades and Persephone, how Hades had abducted her from the living to be his queen of the underworld. Jaebum was neither some delicate maiden in a garden full of flowers nor was Jinyoung a heinous god.

“Unlike you, some of us haven’t experienced a relationship before.” Jinyoung sniffs.

“Does that make you a virgin ghost?” Jaebum asks incredulously.

Jinyoung’s ears turn red. 

-

“How did you die?”

“Plane crash. They managed to salvage the remains of my physical body.” Jinyoung states plainly. The circumstances of Jaebum’s own death flashes by before his eyes.

“I was a trainee at an entertainment company after high school but the crash happened.”

“Me too, I auditioned for one but I dropped out after that.” Jaebum lets on. He did have dreams before of standing in front of an audience, performing. But reality always has a way of letting you know where you stand.

Guess things did not really change much in the span of 20 years. Although the generational gap between them still exists.

“What is swag?”

“Why are you wearing 90s clothing, I thought its already the 2010s on Earth?” Jinyoung cocks his head like a puppy at Jaebum’s bucket hat, oversized patterned shirt and loose Adidas sweatpants.

“Ahh the 90s style just came back in fashion.” Jaebum rubs the back of his head, embarrassed.

-

Truth be told, Jaebum does miss his friends. With Jinyoung’s help, Jaebum manages to appear to BamBam – through his mirror.

“It only works if the person is sensitive to beings like us or there’s a direct connection between you two.” Jinyoung explains, opening the app on his phone. Jaebum’s already dead, he doesn’t know will even surprise him at this rate.

“It’s like the strength of the signal between our world and theirs. Something like a Wi-Fi signal? That’s what you guys have on the land of the living with your ‘Internet’, right? Nayeon and her nice friends at the big mansion down the street taught me this.” Jinyoung chatters on, proud of himself for working the app. Jaebum doesn’t have the heart to correct Jinyoung.

The stream wavers before freezing. Subsequently, the sight of BamBam removing his makeup comes onscreen. BamBam really grew up, Jaebum thinks.

“Hi.” He waves awkwardly.

BamBam immediately bursts into tears. Jaebum now knows how Jinyoung must have felt when Jinyoung made initial contact.

“Jaebum hyung, is that really you?” BamBam wails.

“The last thing you said to me on the night I died was ‘Fuck off’. The last thing we bought together was matching friendship necklaces. ” Jaebum lifts from under his shirt a gold necklace encasing a simple palm tree design. The same design as the one currently dangling from BamBam’s thin frame.  

BamBam’s voice goes higher, slowly becoming hysterical. “Why did you finding me now? I never did you wrong when you were alive.”

“Calm down, I have some questions. Do you know what happened to Jackson? “ Jaebum cannot pat BamBam shoulder so he settles for an appeasing tone.

“Jackson hasn’t woken up since that raid. I can’t visit him, he’s under police custody.” BamBam’s raw vulnerability and frustration makes Jaebum uncomfortable. So far, his life in Hell had been mostly carefree. However, his living friends don’t seem to be doing too well.

“Um, how’s Yugyeom?” Jaebum wrings his hands, changing topic.

“He’s better now.” BamBam chokes out through his snot-filled voice.

BamBam cries even harder when Jinyoung shows up behind Jaebum.

“It really happened. It really happened.” BamBam clutches his head in his hands.

“BamBam, what happened to my body?” Jaebum starts slowly.

“I-It’s beside his, after the cremation. I have no idea who did it but it’s there.” BamBam points to Jinyoung, avoiding eye contact with him. Jaebum cuts the stream, deciding it might be better for before BamBam breaks down any further.

Yugyeom later finds BamBam shivering in the corner of the toilet floor, clutching his Buddha pendant in his palms for dear life, mascara running down his cheeks.

“Babe, what’s wrong?”

“It’s all becoming t-true. I told them. I warned them.” BamBam utters, voice muffled with his head buried into Yugyeom’s shirt.

“What’s becoming true?” Yugyeom attempts to understand, stroking BamBam’s arms gently.

All BamBam responds is, “Jackson hyung is next…..”

-

“Your friend Jackson might want to watch out. He still has time but Mark heard him, alright.” Jinyoung says apologetically.

“Mark?” Jaebum sees the man himself, looking at them expectantly. The gears in Jaebum’s mind shift, piecing the whole picture together.

“You caused my death.” Jaebum fumes with his jaw jut out, grabbing Mark’s collar roughly. Jinyoung doesn’t stop him.

Mark grabs both of Jaebum’s wrists and pushes him off easily with supernatural strength. Jaebum thinks he might have broken one of his wrists.

“I’m just doing my job. Isn’t that right, Jinyoung-ie?” Mark grins, all canine-like and amused by Jaebum. Jaebum bristles that the intimate term directed at Jinyoung.

Mark brushes past Jaebum, hitting his shoulder and walking off. Mark takes a few steps, turns around and adds quietly, “Jackson did call me daddy.” He laughs, transforming into a huge ebony dog.

-

“You know, if you don’t like older men you can just tell me.” Jinyoung teases.

“It’s not-never mind.” Jaebum clams up. Like all things, there was a deadline to their ‘ghost marriage’. Jinyoung does not want to force Jaebum into this if Jaebum is vehemently against it. He thinks about how Jinyoung had spent all this time roaming and waiting near the gates of Hell, not moving on like a peaceful ghost normally does.

They may not have met each other while alive but Jinyoung had taken care of his lost soul when Jaebum first landed in Hell. For that, romantic aspect or not, Jaebum owes him his gratitude. Jaebum stands by what he first said at the columbarium, he is attracted to Jinyoung. But to spend eternity with Jinyoung is another question.

“Are you happy?”

“I don’t know.” Jaebum is at a loss. Being stuck between two paths he has never gone before. What if he regrets his decision, can he go back? Marriage or companionship had never crossed his mind while he was alive. He preferred no strings, an emotionless tumble in the sheets. He can’t remember the last time he has properly dated someone in a healthy relationship. Ironically, death has provided Jaebum with the most peace he has had in his life.

“You can accompany me for eternity, or be alone.”

They end up on a long winding road that never seems to finish, in the middle of green forests and the mountains. Jinyoung silently drives a vintage red pickup truck unsteadily. He seems almost as unsure as Jaebum feels in the passenger seat. Eventually, the truck stops at a crossroad.

Jinyoung turns and asks Jaebum, “Are you sure?”

-

Eternity is a small wooden cabin beside lush fields surrounded by tall trees. If you venture a little further out, there is a small blue-gray lake. It never rains nor do the seasons change. Inside the cozy cabin, a television flickers, looping. There is no cable in Hell. A jigsaw puzzle lays unfinished on the carpeted ground, colourful puzzle pieces strewn everywhere. Jinyoung lies comfortably in a white sweater on a gingham-covered couch, lazily reading The Catcher In The Rye.

A demonic white cat with three eyes bats a feather toy that Jaebum holds. Affectionately named ‘Odd’, the cat had initially scratched Jaebum when he fed it, not that he bleeds anymore. Odd’s attention shifts to chasing ghost mice in the cabin. Jaebum picks up a copy of Veronika Decides to Die, nudging Jinyoung with it. Jinyoung dog-ears his own book before passing it to Jaebum. Their eyes meet, smiling at each other.

Finally, Jaebum feels content.

**Author's Note:**

> Jackson's and Yugyeom's haunting experiences are actually based on real stories that I've heard from people. 
> 
> -
> 
> There are actually 18 Gates of Hell in the Chinese underworld, each one for different types of sinners and criminals with varying torture. 
> 
> -
> 
> im on twitter @bloodirises :)


End file.
